


Dancing with Dagon

by Lizardlicks



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Come Inflation, F/F, Multiple Orgasms, Oral, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:53:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardlicks/pseuds/Lizardlicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demonic summoning rituals.  Interspecies cross cultural exchanges.  Tentacles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing with Dagon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [titianArchivist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titianArchivist/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Танец с Дагоном (Dancing with Dagon by Lizardlicks)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4922029) by [Mr_Scapegrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Scapegrace/pseuds/Mr_Scapegrace)



> So one would think that Captors would be the obvious go-to choice for a fill, but it turns out I was inspired to do my very first femslash ever. Congrats titianArchivist!

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and ever since you could remember, you’ve had an affinity for things... unlike what one would find on this world.  Dark things.  Ancient things.  The stuff one thinks they see if they stare at TV static too long, or hear gurgling under the pylons if they should happen to overstay a walk on the beach at certain times of night, in certain times of the year.  

It’s this particular fascination that led you to befriend one Jade Harley some years ago; a girl of about your age, living somewhere halfway around the world, and claiming to be a practicing witch.  You met on an occult forum, and while she was into the more modern applications of occult and paganism as they applied to daily life, and you more entrenched with the less mainstream, you nevertheless forged a friendship that has lasted several years now.  She’s the chirpy, upbeat yang to your yin, both of you with a hunger for knowledge that can’t be sated and a curiosity that drives.

It was Jade, darling Jade, who found you this precious treasure.  Or her grandfather anyway.  Apparently, she’s actually related to a famous anthropologist-slash-adventurer type.  Either way, it came into her possession, and she has passed it on to you.  When the package finally arrives, dusty, covered in stamps from far off places and addressed in a language you don’t recognize, you can hardly contain yourself.  You all but fly up to your bedroom to belly flop into your bed and shred the brown paper wrapping.  It’s better than Christmas.

It is.  It actually is everything she said it was!  The cover is plain, not a title or author or anything of the like to be seen.  Just a weird, kind of pale leather, a bit cracked around the edges and smelling like-  like...

Ocean water?  You’ve never been to the ocean (though Jade assures you it’s lovely, and really you should come visit, Grandpa would fly you out in his private jet and everything, but you’ve been so engrossed with your studies lately...) but you are almost certain that’s what it smells like.  The cover feels slick, almost oily under your fingertips, but rubbing your fingers together or wiping them on your clothes produces no residue that you can see.  It’s all very fascinating, but your true prize lays inside, locked up in vellum and ink and scrawly, looping handwriting.

The pages look water-damaged.  You have a feeling they’ve always been that way, even when they were new and the tome freshly penned.  Though the ink runs and streaks each page, the writing is still clearly intact, even if the penmanship does leave something to be desired.  The author was probably more concerned with haste than legibility.  The language is one you know, though you aren’t familiar with this particular dialect.  With time, and the right key texts, you should be able to decode it though.  Grinning, you go to fetch your study manuals, some cozy blankets, and a nice cup of tea to settle in with.

 

* * *

 

Eight hours in you ditch the tea for black coffee.

Two days later, you visit the local fishery and purchase squid ink and eel blood.  You get strange looks of course.  Some people like to use both things for culinary purposes, but you have no intention of the sort.  The fishmonger warns you the eel’s blood is toxic to ingest if not prepared right.  You thank him for his concern.

Five days in and you’ve shoved all of your bedroom furniture against the far wall to make room.  You’ve taken to adding a pinch of salt to your coffee.  You heard somewhere that salt cuts down bitterness, you think that must be the reason.  You can’t fathom why else you would do it.  Certainly you could dowse it with sugar and creamer, but the thought makes your stomach curdle for some reason.

Jade expresses concern in your chats, says you’re not sounding like your normal, lucid self.  You assure her all is well, you’ve just have a couple rough nights.  It’s true.  If you sleep at all, it comes with a side of strangely vivid, but impossible to remember dreams.

A week and some days past, and you have successfully finished transferring the elaborate diagram from the water wrinkled page onto the floor of your room.  Unanswered messages blink at you from your computer screen across the room.  You wrack your brain, but you can’t come up with a reason for why that should concern you.

You don’t recall sleeping the last few nights but you’re sure you must have.  The human body can only go so long without sleep before shutting down, and you’re still kicking.  The stray notion that perhaps you’ve given the mortal coil the slip and are just too engrossed to notice sends you into a fit of ugly laughter.  You check yourself over anyway.  If you were a zombie, how would you know?  It’s impossible to see if your skin has changed color, your arms are stained up to the elbows in ink, hands pitch black, fading into gray, and the only mirror in your apartment you took down and settled carefully into the center of the main circle since you didn’t have ‘a bowl of perfect, unembellished silver’ to fill with water.

Anyway, you’ve completed your section of the circles, and to move now would risk smudging the ink and ruining all that hard work.  The only way out is through.  You’ve practiced all your enunciations and conjugations and everything-else-ations for the last several days, and you are as ready as you ever could be to attempt the invoking.  With the book open in front of you, you begin to move your lips in accordance with the words, giving them shape, air vibrating through your vocal cords to give them life, mind and soul press the meaning to give them power.

“Ag’lu’buh, gli’pora, peishy-lub...” you bring the incantation to a close.  There is something lurking on the edges.  The edges of what you don’t know, just that it is there and waiting.  There is one last thing to offer; to give of your body and make the exchange complete.

You pick up the little saucer of eel’s blood, toast whatever eldritch horror is watching, and toss it back in one gulp.  You are immediately, violently ill.

You sick up bile, and something slick, black that coils and slithers away from you, and while your rebelling mind is still trying to process that, another wave of cramps doubles you over with a whimper.  You gag on salt water, insides in full revolt until you expel that too.  It flows from you like a spring, soaking through the front of your blouse and trousers until your ribs ache from the exertion, and your throat is raw from brine.  When it stops- thank god it finally stops!- you have to wipe your stinging eyes and drag each shuddering breath down with physical effort.

“Oh goodness, you poor guppy!”  If you weren’t so thoroughly wrung out just now, you would jump at the shock of a stranger appearing in your locked room with you.  As it is, you manage to drag your head up and paw back your disheveled hair without toppling over, and you’ll call that a win.

There’s a girl... woman?  You think it’s female anyway, from the pitch of her voice and the curve of her- yes alright looking at the face now.  Her eyes are a bit too large and her neck a little too long.  There’s miles of ink black hair cascading from the crown of her head in curls and waves, moving as if with a slight, invisible current.  Plunging upward through the mass are two stately curving horns, brightly colored, nothing like an earthbound beast’s.  

She’s all gray, iridescent scale and chitin, with the gaps filled in by the brightest fuchsia you’ve ever seen, fluttering delicately around her face and down her sides in the form of fins and gills.  You are struck with the overall impression of someone having tried to create a human woman with only having had the most basic second hand description, no actual model, and working only with parts of fish.  Kudos to the artist, they didn’t do half-bad, and the places where they had to take some creative liberty seemed to have worked out for the better.

She does a bang up job of conveying an expression of fussy concern the likes of which would do your mother proud.  Something between a frown and a pout.  It’s an impressive feat considering her facial structure.

“First time, huh?  Portal sickness is a reel beach!”

Did she just?  You aren’t entirely sure you can trust your ears, so you try to politely ignore it.

“I’m sorry,” you demur, and manage to extend your hand, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure?  Rose Lalonde.”  It doesn’t even tremble but the tiniest bit.

“Of course!  I’m so shelly!  Feferi Peixes.”  She takes your hand- her skin is cold as the abyss and so very sleek, you want to touch more of it- and presses the back to her lips.  Heat creeps suspiciously up your neck.  “To what do I owe the summons of my company?”

“I, uh... actually I hadn’t thought of that,” you stammer.  “Intercultural exchange, I guess?  Trans-dimensional meeting of the minds?”

“Yay!” she claps, literally claps, like a delighted child.  “When do we have the makeouts?”

You choke.  “I’m sorry!?”

“Makeouts?  I was under the impression that cross species exchanges usually included that.” Then the pout returns, only this time it’s more thoughtful.  “Or we can just skip straight to third base if you’d prefer.

You would sit down if you weren’t already.  There is a beautiful, inter-dimensional, alien fish woman sitting naked on your brine soaked floor, propositioning you for physical intimacy.  This is actually your life.  The choices you made brought you here.

You don’t even care that it hurts your stomach to laugh, you do anyway until your ribs hate you, and you have to catch your breath again.  “Sure!  Why not.  Start the proceedings whenever.”

“Okay then!”  She smiles at you, displaying a terrifying set of needle teeth, then cups your face and leans in.

Cold lips brush yours in teasing little darts, flirting and careless, driving you to take action or go mad.  So you do, pushing your fingers through the waterfall of her hair so you can take hold, and drag her close to kiss her long and proper.  You are no blushing maiden, even if the lady knight of this particular story is a tad unusual.  Feferi purrs a happy sound into your mouth while one of her hands wanders down to your butt for a squeeze.  You’d guess she’s not so innocent either.

Still expended from your spell, you can’t keep the pace up, but she doesn’t seem to mind.  When you open your mouth to gasp a pant, she trills something triumphant, and licks tender-sweet at your tongue.  Her cool hands pull you closer still, encourage you to surrender your weariness, and lean against the relief of her body.  It’s a temptation you have no more fortitude to resist; you go into her lap like an eager kitten.

“You’re so tired, let me take care of you, cuttlefish,” she insists while stroking your cheek (both of them, heeeeey).  How are you able to refuse?  You nod, allow yourself to go slack in her arms as she shifts your weight to bear more of it.  She eases you to the floor on your back, pets your hair like a long lost lover, humming soft and foreign.  You think for a moment that you should do something other that be a wet lump, but she’s terrifyingly strong for her size; she settles you easy then stretches out beside, with the tantalizing curve of her breast right... freaking... there.

Well, she did seem keen on the whole touching thing.  You hover your hand just out of each and look up to her strange, slitted eyes.  “You really don’t mind if I... ?”

“Not at all!  Do you like them?”  She arches her back and takes hold of your wrist to press the soft mound into your palm.  “Yours looked like such fun, I thought I’d try them out!”

“So this form, it isn’t your true shape?”  Honestly, some of your fascination is pure academic curiosity.  No, really.  The curves are smooth scales, mostly featureless.  You couldn’t say if she would derive any pleasure from handling at all.

“No.  This part of your world isn’t very hospitable to me without a little assistance.  I normally like it a bit... wetter.”  The way she grins at you, that was certainly an innuendo.

“Mm, well I could maybe find you a more suitable arrangement,”  you grin right back and she giggles again.  “So you chose this form on purpose?”

“No, I borrowed it from you.  Whale, the idea of it.”  She mimes plucking something from the air above your head.

“So, you can read my thoughts?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she tells you with the same winning smile, “you spoke the words, gave them power to summon me.  I entered this world through your flesh, molded by your krill and expectations.  Might I add, you have some very quality expectations!”

“Why thank you.  I wasn’t even aware I had any preconceived notions of aquatic aliens.”  You skate your hand slowly over her side, admiring the way the scales shift and shimmer, spread under pressure, but never quite separate.  Can she feel this?  Is it a nice feeling?

When your thumb skips over the the corner of an operculum, Feferi gasps.  Well she felt _that_.  She shudders as you drag the pad over each row, her breath going tight and fast as you move with slow purpose.  Experimentally, you press harder into the last one.  It shifts just enough to reveal a line of the bright fuschia, and Feferi squirms with the most tantalizing, “Aaah!”

“Did that hurt?”  You ease off; not entirely, just enough for her to gain back a little composure.

“Not quite.  It’s very sensitive though.”

“Do you like it?  Or should I be looking for someplace else to touch you?”

“Oh, um,” her fins do this shivery butterfly flutter and flush so dark you want to lick them.  “ _I_ thought I was supposed to be taking carp of _you_.”

The puns, you can not stand how cute she is.  “Don’t worry your precious head, you very much are,” you assure her with a tiny kiss on her nose.  “This is satisfying my insatiable xenobiological curiosity.”

“Shell, in that case, if you’re so very curious...”  She takes your hand again and guides it down, across the smooth, pale plane of her belly, past the dip of her pelvis, and to the thin, glistening line of pink between her legs.  Ah, here’s familiar territory.  Or so you think at first.

The opening is certainly at least somewhat reminiscent of a vulva, enough to fool you when you slide your middle finger up and down the slit and elicit a sigh from Feferi.  She hikes up one knee and slides it over your thigh, spreading herself for you to access deeper, but that’s where the differences start to show.  

Her space is cool, and wet, and _sucking_ , clenching to draw your fingers deeper in almost as soon as you push past the first knuckle.  And there’s something else moving- _squirming_ , wriggling to entangle with you.  Shocked, you pull back, but regret it when Feferi makes a string of distressed clicks.  You open your mouth to apologize, or ask if she’s alright, or something, but instead what comes out is a squeaky, “Oh,” because whatever that thing is decided to follow you out.

It’s the same pink of the rest of her delicate flesh, each tendril no thicker than your thumb at the tip, but grouped together at the base they’re thicker than your wrist.  Good fucking Dagon, she has literal tentacle junk.

“Ahaha, oh my god!”  You’re grinning, you can’t stop grinning, you are doing it so hard it hurts.  “Screw third base, I want this inside me.”

She throws back her head and laughs.  “That can be arraynged!”

You sit up, flick open the first couple buttons of your blouse, enough to pull it over your head without bothering with the rest.  You shuck it, your camisole and your bra all at once because fuck it.  It feels great to let the girls free in the coolness of your room.  Feferi seems to appreciate it too; she cups one breast experimentally, the way you had done hers, and thumbs at your hardening nipple.  It’s a nice feeling, and you make nice noises to match.

You stand up to wiggle out of your pants next, and when you pull down your panties her eyes go wide.  “You have fur!”

“Is that going to be a- ah!”  She’s grabbed you around your hips and pulls you close for inspection.  Your face must be all sort of shades of red by now.

“Oh my cod, that’s so glubbin’ adorabubble,” she coos, and then _she actually pets your crotch_.  You’ve never considered a situation where pubes could be considered adorable.  Then again, you’ve never considered a situation where you were about to mash genitals with the gorgeous spawn of an alien tentacle horror, so there you have it.  She strokes the hair lovingly, then spreads you open, provoking more involuntary noises out of your mouth.  

“Even your bulge is cute, it’s so tiny.”  Then she leans in, and the cold, wet seal of her mouth finds your clit unerringly.  You are still not recovered from your spell casting ordeal.  Or hell, maybe she’s just that clever with her tongue, but either way your legs wobble and threaten to give out as she sucks at the nub adoringly.  Fuck, oooooh god, that’s _so_ good!  But her hands are solid on your hips, holding you firmly in place.

You still try to instinctively steady yourself by getting a grip on the closest thing- her horns as it turns out, but she doesn’t seem to mind.  Just chirps a weird love song to your sex and keeps moving her mouth, dipping to lap against your folds one moment, then rising back to dote more attention to your clit.  You wonder if all of her kind are built this way, having a pussy and writhing cock to pleasure and tease at the same time so that she’s learned the secrets to both.  You think you would really like to get to find out.

And Feferi isn’t satisfied to just tease you, oh no.  She presses deeper, pushing her tongue against your trembling walls, flicking quick darts and slow, measured strokes in turn until your whole body is shaking with the effort to hold yourself upright.  You can feel the orgasm coming long before it hits; that hot, almost-pressure, all focused into one razor fine point between your legs until it gives, floods your whole sensory system in mind and body numbing pleasure.  Controlling your voice is impossible.  She nurses you right through it until you’re down to trembling and panting little half-moans.

When she lets you go it turns out you really weren’t standing on your own at all.  You melt straight into her lap, straddling the writhing beast that’s waited impatient for its own attention.  Feferi doesn’t press right away though.  She just hums and pets you, lets you lay your head on her shoulder, and scatters kisses all down the shivering skin of your neck.

“Do you need a breaker, sea-weed-ness?” she inquires pleasantly, as if you merely went for a jog around the block.

You consider.  You said you wanted to take Cthulhu junior for a ride and by god you have not changed your mind.  “It would be shame if we stopped now and whatever spell is binding you here wore off before we got a chance to complete our xenobiological exchange.”

“Such a shame!” she agrees.  The coiling tyrian tentacles also agree, as they waste no time acting on the cue.  You bury a moan into her hair as they bury themselves deep into you, spreading your hot, sex-swollen flesh around their cool thickness.  There’s too much, too many, you couldn’t possibly fit them all, except they’re determined to try, and then you do and you are so so full.  When the last tendril has claimed its seat, she pulls you higher onto her thighs, rolls her hips with yours until you meet flushed together, leaving you twitching and throbbing around the thickest parts of her.

Then the real show begins.  She never thrusts, not like you’re conditioned to expect with mammalian sex.  Instead she rocks, grinding against you with constant, perfect pressure.  The tendrils do their work too.  There is no retreat-reentry; you are always full, never without.  It’s almost too much, except that it isn’t, it’s just right the way they twist and undulate, flexing and coiling inside you in a way no earth-made thing, natural or synthetic, could ever hope to replicate.  This time your climax doesn’t feel sharp, and quick, it’s slow, and crushing under its weight, dragging you down into incomprehensibility, as you babble nothing and everything against her throat.

And then she cries out with you, and suddenly you are fuller still.  Your body nearly cramps with it, there’s so much of her inside you.  It takes a moment for you to even figure out what the hell until you feel the cold slime pooling under your thighs.  She’s given up words in favor of chirring like a summer cricket, while her mating parts pull away and retreat back into her, leaving you messy with her fluids.

It’s pink just like the rest of her.  You find yourself giggling at that.  Good lord there’s a lot of it too.  There’s a swell to your abdomen that wasn’t there before.  You’d swear you looked in the early stages of pregnancy if you didn’t know any better.  You hope there’s a way to drain it out later, because in spite of the gooey puddle, beneath you, there’s still plenty where that came from, and you don’t feel keen on explaining to a doctor how exactly you got into this condition.

Feferi wraps around you nuzzling into your shoulder.  It feel so wonderful, even after all that contact she’s still so cool and strangely soft.  The floor however is not, and your bed is only a few feet away.  Somehow, through sheer force of will perhaps, you manage to stand one last time, pulling your alien lover after you so you can collapse into a sleepy heap amidst a pile of quilts, comforters, and pillows.

 

* * *

 

When you awake it’s with a groan.  There is no glittering woman of water and scales beside you.  You can’t help but feel a little pang of loss, but there’s no help for it.  You are sore, you are tired, and you have the best story for Jade.  

Oh god, Jade!  You haven’t answered any of your messages for like three days, she has to be worried sick about you.  You roll your aching body out of bed, spare the disaster of your room a grimace and shuffle over to the computer.  As soon as you wake your account up from idle status she’s capslocking at you in bold neon green.

GG: OH THANK GOD I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO HAVE TO SHOOT SOMEBODY!!

GG: come to think of it i might STILL have to shoot somebody

GG: where are you and when do you need me there

TT: Thank you for your enthusiastic action to leap to my rescue, but I assure you this damsel is quite free from distress, and no one requires being shot.

GG: i was gonna shoot you >:(

TT: Oh.  Well the point still stands.

GG: what the hell happened rose?

TT: It’s a long story.

TT: Well, not that long, but you’ll probably have questions, and I’m exhausted.

TT: I need food, a shower, and another nap.  Not necessarily in that order.

You glance at your unread message bar and notice the two other contacts on your list that tried to pester you while you were otherwise occupied.  Opening them, you groan and rest your palms over your eyes.

TT: Jade, did you tell Dave and John I was missing?

GG: yes

GG: sorry

GG: i may have panicked a little :(

TT: Okay.  Well no harm done, but I’m going to go crawl into that shower now, and not come out for a year.  Or at least until the hot water runs out.  Could you deal with them for me?

GG: sure but youre gonna have to tell all of us what happened sooner or later

TT: Believe me, I will.

TT: See you in a bit <3

GG: <3

 

* * *

 

The shower is glorious, and over much too quickly.  You still have ink stains in your cuticles, but for the most part you’re clean and significantly happier for it.  Alarmingly the swell in your belly, though reduced, is not entirely gone.  You hope your body continues to metabolize whatever this is, but so far it doesn’t hurt, or really feel bad at all, so you opt to ignore it.  

Stepping out of the shower, you’re greeted by mouth-watering smells.  Someone is in your house, cooking your food.  You snag your bathrobe off the door hook and toss it around you, not even bothering to fasten it properly, just holding it closed with one hand as you fly out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

Feferi.

Feferi is standing at the stove, still naked as the morning, and chittering to herself in that odd clicky language.

“You’re still here,” you say, too surprised to have anything constructive.

“Sure looks that way!”  She pivots around on her toes like she’s dancing, and glides across the room to you, favors your cheek with a kiss while pushing a plate of food into your hands, and you down into a kitchen chair.  It’s poached eggs and salmon.  You mind whips around in a daze, too torn by the rumbling in your belly and the confusion at your new house guest.

“How are you still here?”

She shrugs, taking a seat across from you with her own plate.  “Whale, you never sent me back.”

“I have to send you back?”  There wasn’t anything like that in the book.  No mention of sending things, just of pulling them to you.  You assumed that once the magic tying the being to your world wore off, their own would pull them back.  “Oh no. Oh Feferi I’m so, so sorry.  I’ll do everything in my power to get you back to your world, I promise, but it may take some time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she dismisses your concern and pops a bite of fish into her mouth.  You almost drop your fork.

“What!?  Why not?  Feferi, don’t you want to go back to your home?  Your friends?”  You think of Jade, and how upset she was when you were gone for only a few days.  Doesn’t she have anyone at all that cares for her so?

She sets her fork down and folds her hands in front of her.  It takes her a moment to compose her thoughts, but when she looks up to you her face hurts your heart.

“I would love nothing more than that.  But my days on my planet were numbered anyway.  I was hatched as an heiress to a tyrant of a vast empire, slated to die in ritual combat against her to prove her continued right to rule.”

“That’s... that’s horrid.”  You feel your stomach sour in spite of your hunger.  Feferi nods, and resumes her meal as if nothing at all was wrong.  Eventually she speaks to you again.

“When I go back, I’m going to be prepared to win.  So take your time, there’s no rush.”

You reach across the table and grab her hand in yours.  “I will anything in my power to lend aid.  I have access to much more than cheap wizard tricks.”

“Rose.”  Her fins do that fluttery dance and she stands, moves around the table so she can face you properly, then sinks to her knees, and pulls you into a hug.  “Thank you!  You’ve already given me a chance I didn’t have before.  This means so much to me!”

You wrap her up, squeeze her tight as if your arms alone could protect her from her fate.  Maybe they can, but not in a physical way.  “I’ll help and my friends will be happy to help as well, I’m sure.  They’d love to meet you.  Oh!  Speaking of..”  You take her by the chin and tip her head up enough to kiss her forehead.  

“Be right back,” you tell her, then extract yourself from her embrace to go retrieve your phone from your room.  Jade isn’t on Pesterchum any longer, probably crashed into sleep herself, but Dave’s icon is online, and John’s is idle.  You set a message to send to everyone, then shuffle up next to Feferi, holding the phone at arm’s length.

“Smile for the camera, my dear.”  She does, but just as you tap the button she turns and plants a kiss on your cheek.  You like that pic much better anyway.  

You send it with the caption “What I’ve been doing.”  You hope one of them will appreciate the double entendre.

None of them do.


End file.
